


The red witch

by ElsaMaria



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fantasy, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Historical Fantasy, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Possessive Crowley, Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snakes, Tragic Romance, Witch Curses, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 11:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20759891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElsaMaria/pseuds/ElsaMaria
Summary: Aziraphale is a witch trainee in search of his mentor. Crawly his familiar.Aziraphale wishes to meet the red witch to present himself as his pupil, but this has mysteriously disappeared without a trace (leaving the young one hopeless) ...If we keep it silent during the night, we can hear a sad lullaby bearing her name.For the one who refused loveLove will become a prisonCreeping and malignant in shapeFor the one who does not get his body backAnd only in the sleep of the one he lovesHe will be able to embrace what will never be again.





	The red witch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Masao.sketch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Masao.sketch).

> It triggers a particular process when a good idea is combined with fan art, which could arrive from nowhere a fan writer who points his finger and exclaims: "I want to write something about this!" and here I am.  
It is my first publication in English, this because I am Italian and I cannot write in English. I had to put two dear friends of mine to work, one of whom was involved in the translation and one of the corrections and adaptations. Thank you Tanya (https://www.instagram.com/shinorisu/) for your patience and dedication, which you immediately gave to this project, and you opened a ray of light for me. Thanks Jessica (https://www.instagram.com/jess_natsu/) who made all this real by giving it a form that I feel is closer to my style of expression and spent hours explaining to me why it was better to have a sentence rather than another to better represent how I express myself in Italian. I don't know how I would have done without them.
> 
> Let's talk about the plot. I love Good Omens, in every single way. Gaiman is a genius, Pratchett with him, they created something unique and I want to pay tribute to it with my fanfiction because it's amazing how much love can be found in an opera. In particular with this story, I not only pay tribute to them but also to an artist that I adore that with its simple style gives life to different and hilarious scenarios: Masao.sketch (https://www.instagram.com/p/B13tdBgFKzO/). This AU is his own invention!  
Curious to know more about the apprentice witch Aziraphale and her Crawly familiar? Enjoy the reading!

He didn't even have the time to talk that the door was slammed into his face. The impact, which made the wood tremble, echoed through the hill, so much that it reached the valley in the form of a roar and disturbed the dogs that started barking.  
Aziraphale sighed, no will left in him. He placed the knapsack on his shoulder, a straw hat on his head and resumed his journey, his walking stick forward, at his feet. It was late autumn, the trees were bare with the roots covered by beds of leaves and the hot summer climate was nothing but a sweet memory; time passed inexorably and like sand, he was letting it slip from his fingers. Light eyes emerged from the large scarf and rose to the sky full of clouds that promised rain: for now, he’d have to settle for what he had done until that moment and be fast to find somewhere to take cover from the rain, he jumped on the broom e took flight. 

While the air was trembling and the sky thundered, he made his entrance into the inn, the first that he had found from there to the west. It was small outside, but the traveler felt its welcoming atmosphere in his heart. The door creaked and a lazy bell warned about his entrance: no tapestries or ridiculous ornaments to show off a fictitious wealth, but only wooden beams, a clean floor, and a few lanterns to light the large room immersed in the shadows. The fire crackled into the fireplace, covering the buzz of the few men sitting on their own at the corners of the room.  
<< A room for the night and a meal. >> He asked the innkeeper behind the counter while she looked busy cleaning up the mugs and bored. She gave the stranger a generous look, frowning as he took off his hat. The chubby face with the pale skin and flushed cheeks of the guest was full of burns, as if something had exploded in his face.  
<<Are you okay boy?>> Aziraphale blinked, then remembered.  
<<Oh, yes, don't worry.>> He smiled gently, tying the ribbon that would have kept the hat on his back.  
<< Could I bring the meal to my room? >>  
<< Sure. >> The innkeeper walked away to prepare the tray; she returned a few minutes later with his request. Aziraphale took the dinner from the bony, calloused hands of the woman, leaving a bag of coins on the counter. The innkeeper weighed the content, peering inside with her grim look to finally curl the hunchbacked nose: they were all there. She took off her apron and adjusted the cloth skirt, beckoning to follow her. Aziraphale was accompanied upstairs, remaining a few paces behind the woman who had bent over the lock on the first room on the right. The innkeeper sank her hand into her pocket, pulling out an old rusty key; two firm shots and a jerk: the door was opened.  
<< You can find water by the well, is right outside, near the stable. >> The boy looked outside. The stable of which she spoke had to be the clearing where the horses were kept in the hope that no one would steal them during the night; luckily, he didn't have a horse.  
<< Thank you. >> The grimace on the face of the woman turned, for a moment, into a slight smile. She left the room then, closing the door.  
<< Finally you can come out, my dear. >> He whispered, taking off his scarf and opening his cape: a black snake was wrapped around his neck coil after coil. The animal raised its head slowly and lazily, opening its yellow irises to observe where it had been taken and hissed.  
<<There wasn’t anything better and listen. >> A thunder rumbled at that moment while the roaring of the water increased so much to gush against the glass of the window. <<We got sheltered just in time.>> He murmured quietly, resting his blue wool scarf on the bed. The snake, still wary of his choice, slid slowly from the boy's arm to rest on the warm fabric of the garment. Aziraphale smiled, giving the snake a caress.  
<< You know Crawly, since I have you with me I got my interest in reptiles, and you should go into hibernation soon. >> The boy commented, slowly starting to undress, gathering his clothes on a rotten wooden chair. The snake looked at him curiously, with his tongue coming out from time to time producing soft wheezings. << I read a lot of books about it, - he repeated - one more interesting than the other! Some were talking about the temperatures that a reptile can withstand, of their nature, even when laying eggs! A really interesting topic is that of eggs, it's incredible how- >> But the enthusiasm of the young man diminished when his eyes crossed the yellow and wide open face of the familiar that had begun to tremble with horror with its forked tongue hanging out from outside the mouth. <<I talked too much this time too, didn't I?>> He giggled, triggering the spiteful and displeased hiss of the animal that, in protest, curled up more on itself.  
<< How touchy. >> Aziraphale's grumbling didn't convince the snake of being wrong, if possible he convinced him of the contrary, so much so that he remained still in his position.  
The fireplace in the room had already been lit, the living flame warmed the room as it could. The young man eyed his companion and decided to grab him. He stirred and started hissing insistently, but Aziraphale simply left him in front of the fire. Crawly stretched his body towards the other and saw the sad expression hidden on his face.  
<<I don't want you to go into hibernation.>> He admitted in a whisper, an unspeakable secret. He forced a smile: <<You're my only friend and I don't want to lose you.>> He took his place in front of the fire. Crawly made his voice heard and Aziraphale gave him a few strokes.  
<< Oh, right! >> He jumped out of nowhere, snapping quickly and leaving the snake without his care, an act that left him upset. He stretched himself with difficulty towards the bag, so much so that he touched the beams of the floor with his soft belly before reaching the desired object. He opened the sack and unfolded its fabrics to let out what it contained: a pinewood rod, a book with a gold-green binding, a box containing spices and a small bag; he took the latter by pouring the contents in front of the snake. He had discovered that Crawly didn’t like rats and mice like all snakes and in truth loved eating very few things, but since feeding is very important he had found a compromise: legumes. He didn't know why or how, but Crawly seemed to be a vegetarian snake, he loved spices, almost all of them, and during a journey legumes were an exceptional solution, much better than letting him go into the cold to hunt or keep lettuce in the bag.  
<< Enjoy. >> He told him as he retrieved his tray. He brought the hot soup to his nose: vegetable soup. He opened the wooden box, stealing some parsley which he added to the soup after crumbling it in his hand, a pinch of paprika then, he smelled it and yes, now he could say he was satisfied. He began to eat keeping an eye on that stinker of his friend. He moved the legumes with his muzzle, stealing a bite from time to time with his tongue; scared he was going to poison him? Crawly looked at him and for a second they stood still, it was when Aziraphale smiled at him that the snake seemed to be seized by some feeling and buried its head in the bag. The boy laughed, eyeing the last thing he had not yet pulled out: a rolled parchment; reflexively his throat closed. Like the feeling that something had just changed, Crawly distracted himself from his meal by focusing on the stiffness and sudden coldness emanated by Aziraphale. The snake could see that change not only thanks to the thermal vision, typical of snake, but because of his own special characteristics too. His sight was much more precise and trained than any other snake. He didn’t just see which area was more or less warm, useful with a body made purely to live at high temperatures, but also the reaction of the human body to feelings. When a man was shaken by an event, Crawly felt that change and around his body an aura was created in the shape of thermal blotches, that indicated the disturbance that shook his soul. Aziraphale was always surrounded by a golden aura, one so warm and gentle as he had never felt before, so when it changed it was easy to notice the difference. He crept silently, turn after turn, he crept into the other's blouse, climbed his bust slowly and wrapping around him in a sinuous and gentle movement, covering his neck with his body, while Aziraphale watched him silently. Crawly then moved his head to his friend's soft cheek and sank against it.  
<< Crawly what are you doing? >> The young man chuckled, placing his hands on the reptile's body that insisted on those cuddles. Aziraphale grew warmer and Crawly hissed in satisfaction so much that he took his cheek between the mouth in a painless but affectionate bite. <<Thank you, Crawly.>> He whispered to the snake, taking the parchment wrapped in strings. They both craned their necks to read the thin, elegant writings that soaked the paper. What Aziraphale carried with him was a very important document for young witch-apprentices like him; in fact, the document told exactly why that door had been slammed in his face: he had to look for a witch who would take him as her pupil and consequently have a signature on his resume. The young students were given two moons to find a witch who believed in them and would decide to take one as her protégé, but Aziraphale, though this was the tenth witch on the list, could find no one who wanted him. Not that they were the ones to blame, for he was not a very good student, unfortunately. He descended from an important family of witches, from a high category called the Throne. Great expectations had been placed upon him, he had even been given a rod tied to the element of fire; it was a pity though that he was completely bad at it, to the point of being at the level of a newbie, one of the lowest ranks. The boy had always regretted this condition and had tried to exploit his great passion in ancient texts to sharpen his magical art ... But all of it had been in vain.  
Crawly watched him devour those unmarked names and only 10 other witches available to the possibility to take him. The forked tongue rested on one of the fresh burns on his face, more like bruises than burns: this time had been better. He moved his tongue slowly, kissing more than licking. Aziraphale laughed.  
<< You’ll tickle me like this. >> He scratched the scales gently under his head. << You are strangely affectionate today ... >> He whispered warming the snake with something much warmer than the fire: his smile; it was sweet and kind, loving, Crawly would protect it at any cost, as long as he smiled at him like that he could never go into hibernation. The coils of the snake melted slowly and the tail moved to indicate a name on the list: the red witch Crowley. Aziraphale parted his lips in a surprised: << Oh. >> He raised the parchment, lighting it up more in the light of the fire. The red witch, a true legend among witches. He had not heard a thing from her in a month or two, if not more! No one knew what had happened to her, there were those who said that she had run away because of accusations against herself, others speculated that she actually committed those crimes and had been rightly punished, or even that she had made everything up and now, tired and outraged, she ditched everyone, abandoning them to their fate. But in the end, nobody really knew the truth.  
<< Tomorrow we will try with Uriel, the golden witch. >> He said unconvinced, to which the snake answered with a head bump on its belly.  
<< Ouch! What's the matter with you? >> He crawled towards the bag and with the help of his mouth grabbed the rod and placed it on his legs, then stared at it intently.  
<<Do not give up - he seemed to say. You will succeed.>> It was exceptional, the boy thought every time, he had found that snake in his house, while he was rustling in his garden of spices and he never expected him to become so important for him.  
<<So, sometimes I can do something right too.>> He said, taking the rod, shaking it towards the sky. << Taking you as my familiar, Crawly, was the best choice I ever made. >> From the tip piece of wood some flames came out spurting upward, crackling around the room in sparks. If the snake could have done it he would have blushed, instead, he simply curled up between the crossed legs of Aziraphale hiding in himself.

They stood in front of the fire for another hour, enough time for Crawly to warm up as well as the scarf in which he would have wrapped in before going to bed. Aziraphale had taken off his pants keeping just the blouse on before slipping between the covers of the stiff bed. He brought the bundle of wool that contained his slumbering friend with him.  
<< I wonder what is it about this red witch whose name you take from.>> He murmured to himself petting the head of the familiar. << Oh, I wish to know her so much, one day, to be worthy of her ... To be able to have the honour to know someone so great. She doesn't know, but she saved me once and since then I'd just like to thank her, I wonder what kind of person has such a soul. >> He giggled. << Certainly not a guy like you, Crawly, too strutting to be a snake. >> Aziraphale's gentle gaze was all focused on the body of the slow-breathing snake, vibrating from the sleep he had fallen into, and following that sweet beat he too fell in the arms of Morpheus.

_For the one who refused love_  
_Love will become a prison_  
_Creeping and malignant in shape_  
_For the one who does not get his body back_  
_And only in the sleep of the one he loves_  
_He will be able to embrace what will never be again. _

Unhappy words of a sad lullaby resounded in the night, while a cloud of dark smoke descended on the floor and saturated the air, taking a shape then. In an elegant black dress, a man with a large pointed hat sat next to the sleeping apprentice. He stroked his blond curls, weaving his bony hand between them, smiling.  
<< Oh, Aziraphale if only you could know that I am the red witch. >> He said observing the empty body of a snake coiled next to Aziraphale. One of the greatest risks of the trade, when one was a witch, was embedded in curses: you can never know neither when and how. That damned red witch had been forced to live in the body of her familiar, keeping her shape until she learned to love. Damned was he, forced into eternal damnation while observing what he could never have. Aziraphale grimaced but did not wake up.  
<< I promise you, Aziraphale, that I will try to find a solution and then you will be my precious pupil, I will protect you at any cost. >> Crowley's red hair caressed the apprentice's face when he bent over to kiss him while closing his eyes; he never had a reason, but now that he had found it, nothing could take it away from him.

The next day they left at dawn, ready for another door to be slammed in their face.


End file.
